


The Newsboys Collection

by dekimasen



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Albert DaSilva and the Many Irish Cuss Words, Albert DaSilva is Bad at Feelings, Angst, Art Student Jack Kelly, Bad Jokes, Bisexual Jack Kelly, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone Feels Feelings, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Newsies, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Smalls (Newsies), Homophobia, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, It just happened, Italian Racetrack Higgins, Jack Kelly Being an Idiot, Katherine Plumber Pulitzer is a Good Friend, Let Crutchie Say Fuck, M/M, Mentioned Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Minor Kid Blink/Mush Meyers, Minor Romeo/Specs (Newsies), Mom Friend David Jacobs, Morris Delancey Protection Squad, Mutual Pining, No Incest, No Smut, Oblivious David Jacobs, One-Sided Albert Dasilva/Racetrack Higgins, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Racetrack Higgins Disappoints Jesus: Part 394, Racetrack Higgins Needs a Hug, Spot Conlon is Bad at Feelings, Swearing, The Author Regrets Everything, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, What Have I Done, albert dasilva getting the appreciation he deserves, and they hate it, bABY CRUTCHIE, cant decide if davey is full homo or bi so lets say hes pan, chaotic gays, desperate gays, dunno her, he small i will fight on this, hetero who?, i didn't plan that, i should not be allowed to tag, insecure albert, no beta we die like men, please fuel this hellbeast of a fic, requests gladly accepted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dekimasen/pseuds/dekimasen
Summary: A bunch of Newsies™ one-shots and ficlets, ranging from canon-era to modern-aus and comedic, angsty, or almost senselessly weird plots.[ON INDEFINITE HIATUS](Characters, relationships and tags in no particular order)
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Elmer (Newsies), Albert DaSilva/Finch (Newsies), Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins, Buttons/Henry/Jojo (Newsies), Buttons/JoJo (Newsies), Crutchie & David Jacobs, Crutchie & Jack Kelly, David Jacobs & Jack Kelly, David Jacobs & Les Jacobs, David Jacobs & Sarah Jacobs, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Jack Kelly & Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Jack Kelly & Medda Larkin, Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber, Kid Blink/Mush Meyers, Morris Delancey & Oscar Delancey, Morris Delancey/Henry, Romeo/Specs (Newsies), Sarah Jacobs & Jack Kelly, Sarah Jacobs & Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Spot Conlon/Albert DaSilva, Spot Conlon/Albert DaSilva (Newsies), Spot Conlon/Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins, Spot Conlon/David Jacobs, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 86
Kudos: 105





	1. Post Refuge

**Author's Note:**

> newsies dialect is affecting my every day speaking patterns  
> enjoy auto-correct conspiring to murder me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you too, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my bby crutchie gets hurt a lot and jack is a dum dum

Charlie was going to punch someone.

The (just barely) thirteen year old's half-hearted glares weren't even scaring the stray cat sitting outside the window of Jacobi's. After all, Charlie Morris was about as intimidating as a sleeping bunny. He was smaller than every Newsie who was older than twelve, which frankly didn't mean much, but even fourteen year old Romeo was taller than him. Romeo was barely taller than Les.

In short, not a single one of his friends took his glaring seriously.

He was fine. He wasn't a baby. He'd survived this long with fucking  _ polio _ and he never even complained about how much his leg hurt—which really fucking hurt—but  _ no _ . Despite being a teenager Charlie was still considered a "child".

Sure, he was the youngest of the older Newsies (older than ten anyway), and had only recently reached the age where he didn't need an older mentor to help him sell papes, but that didn't mean he was a kid.

In fact, Charlie was rather smart.

Whenever Oscar gave him an incorrect amount of papers, he would stand there awkwardly until the older Delancey glared, recounted the stack in his hands, then gave him the right amount.

If any of the smaller kids couldn't read the headline, he would read it for them and help them pronounce it (He didn't do this often though, since they would usually hug him tightly as thanks which hurt his leg pretty badly).

For the few years he knew his mother (he could only barely remember her face now. She had warm hazel eyes.), Charlie had been praised for being able to form coherent sentences at such a young age. He rarely babbled, and whenever he spoke he made as much sense as a happy little three year old could.

And on top of it all, he toughed it out through polio when his mother died. He kept himself barely alive until Jack found him and took him in. At the time, Charlie had only been five.

Then years later, when David and Les came along and the strike happened, Charlie didn't get to become close friends with the Jacobs brothers like everyone else. He had been beaten half to death and locked up in the refuge. As a small, scrawny twelve year old with a polio infected leg and skin that bruised if he got poked too hard, those days had been a fight for his life that he just barely won.

Though sometimes, it felt like he'd lost and come out alive anyway.

Jack played it cool in front of everyone when Charlie was released, but the moment they were alone on the lodging house rooftop the older boy had wept and nearly crushed him in a hug while muttering orders to never scare him like that again. Charlie didn't understand at the time why he'd been so upset until David informed him that Jack had to watch Snyder beat him up with his own crutch, and was too far away to be of any help.

Then again, David also said no one would treat him any differently. Charlie had no reason to believe that Jack intended to save him at all.

The teenager gave Jack a hard punch in the arm for being a sell-out once he heard about that little detail. And another for daring to  _ think _ about running off to Santa Fe without him. And then another for kissing Katherine. He later met said girl, who turned out to not be evil and conniving like her father, but he punched Jack again anyway just because he was so goddamn stupid and he definitely deserved it.

Then he hugged him and cried for a few hours, but we don't talk about that.

This was followed by yet another punch, this time to Jack's gut, for calling him "baby brother" at Jacobi's in front of everyone. Charlie had irritatedly spat "'M not a  _ fuckin' _ baby.", which earned him the same treatment as Race whenever he swore—Race swore a lot—: Albert got half his pay for a week.

Albert often got Race's pay.

Albert was also the only one who didn’t tip-toe around Charlie once he got home. He’d hugged him, cried, then threatened him if he dared tell anyone he saw him crying, but other than that he teased and joked around like everything was normal.

Charlie figured it was since the redhead had been locked up in the Refuge a whopping six times, managing to escape each and every time. Wiesel eventually gave up on handing him over to Snyder when he realized Albert wasn’t going to be actually paying for his papes anytime soon, and would always be back in the lodging house the next morning. After escape number four, the newsies stopped treating him like a wounded puppy and instead started seeing how quickly he could escape. His record was two hours after lock-up; it had taken a bit because he’d gotten in a spat with another kid (Albert did  _ not _ take kindly to off-hand comments about his mother, as was revealed when said kid a—Woodside newsboy they’d never met—escaped from the Refuge right after him with a broken arm and two black eyes), but it was still the fastest escape they’d ever seen.

But Charlie wasn’t too fond of getting locked up another three times just to earn respect, so he put up with the babying until Jack said something stupid.

“I’s jus’ lookin’ out for youse, kid. I don’ wanna watch you g’t y’self killed because o’ that bum leg of yours. Y'r just too easy t' pick on.” The older boy had said casually over dinner (leftovers) at Jacobi’s. That had been the last straw.

Charlie slammed his hand down on the table, forcing himself to stand and just barely managing to tuck his crutch underneath his arm. The small boy’s eyes burned with hurt and rage. “What, you thinkin' I can’t take care’a myself?” He said rather loudly, gaining the attention of most of the room. Even Jacobi, who became conveniently hard of hearing when it came to arguments in his restaurant, looked over with his mouth agape.

Jack’s eyes just about bugged out of his face when Charlie exploded, continuing to shout at him and no doubt straining his voice harshly. “I ain’t a kid, Jack!” He yelled, his vocal chords wavering and bottom lip quivering—his body language betraying him and making it known he was struggling not to cry. “I don’t need t’ be fucking reminded ev’ry day that I ain’t as strong ‘r brave as you or David 'r anyone else. I's been surviving jus' fine wit'out any help from nobody, an' it ain't fair I's being treated like a baby when I work hard an'—an—" Charlie had to steady his breathing before he could continue. "An' I don' need you t' protect me anymore!"

The boy's breathing became ragged as he forced himself to stop crying, blinking through the tears to notice his hand, clenched under Jack's chin and gripping the other's shirt so tightly it looked like it might rip. Charlie quickly let go, taking a step back and nearly falling over. He turned as quickly as he could, walking to the best of his ability with his crutch under his arm.

He just couldn't get away fast enough.

—-—-—-—

Jack Kelly was used to people getting angry with him.

He'd made sure he was always prepared to get yelled at by anyone. This was why he would barely bat an eye when Davey, Katherine, or any of his newsboys would get irritated and start insulting and berating him harshly. He'd grown up with people hating him, and wasn't surprised anymore when someone he trusted suddenly blew up, seeming to have been holding in their hatred for him for who knew how long.

But the past week, he'd let his guard down.

Even Oscar Delancey had mellowed out after Crutchie got back, because the scarily calm glare he'd received from Jack promised death if he went anywhere near his little brother. No one had dared yell at Jack for fear he'd threaten to kill them as well. Everyone knew how hard a toll Crutchie's arrest had taken on Jack. The Manhattan newsboys' leader hadn't eaten or slept until making sure Crutchie was safe and no one would harm him.

But Jack had never prepared himself to be shouted at by Crutchie Morris himself.

He'd been stunned, staring after Crutchie in shock as the young boy stormed out of Jacobi's (as best as one could storm when they had to use a crutch to walk). For a moment, he was too surprised to move. When he regained his bearings, he ran out after him.

As expected, Crutchie hadn't made it far. He was only a third of the way down the sidewalk and already tiring out due to overexerting himself. Jack knew he wouldn't make it another few steps before he fell over, and rushed to help him.

He probably should've seen it coming when he copped an elbow to the jaw.

"I don't _ need _ y'r help—" Crutchie spat, turning around to face Jack; He hesitated, eyes softening before he quickly fixated a glare on his features. "Whaddya want, Jack?" He whimpered.

Jack could see the tears running down his face even in the dark. His eyes glistened with hurt and his bottom lip was quivering so bad Jack was impressed he wasn't sobbing on the ground.

His familial instinct kicked into overdrive, and Jack wrapped his arms around the kid. "'M sorry, Charlie." He mumbled, the name feeling almost foreign on his tongue. Jack rarely ever called Crutchie by his real name.

Crutchie was shaking in his arms, and then he landed a punch against Jack's ribs. Then another in his gut, and a dozen more on his arms and shoulders. Jack held on tight, wincing slightly as the punches landed. "I hate you, y'r so fuckin'  _ stupid _ Jack I—" Crutchie hiccupped, punches becoming weaker as he lost himself in the embrace.

Breaking down and letting the tears fall and wet Jack's shirt, Crutchie's arms came up to hug him back.

"I love you too, kid."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requests are open!


	2. Harmless Spin-The-Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, if I was a boy, you'd be looking at me through one swollen eye!" Katherine sneered, putting a threatening fist under Jack's chin.
> 
> Fearlessly, he glared right back at her. "Well don't let that stop you, huh?" He goaded, "Gimme your best shot!"
> 
> And so she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two in one day? what??
> 
> god help me these kids are chaotically gay
> 
> this mainly focuses on some cute Javid and Sprace (and implied Sarah/Kath) but i promise some cute (platonic) Ralbert will come next chapter
> 
> (wink wink nudge nudge Brooklyns_Late)

" _Ohh_ and if you weren't a girl you'd be tryin' to talk with a fist in your mouth."

Katherine's eyebrows climbed high on her forehead. The boy before her had to have been either impressively brave or incredibly stupid.

"If I weren't a _girl_ , huh?" Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, taking a step closer. Jack shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and maintained eye contact as best he could under the girl's scrutinizing gaze.

Katherine tilted her head with as much scarily crafted calmness as she could muster. "So, are you saying I can't take a hit just because I'm a girl?"

It was then that Jack knew, he fucked up.

He swallowed, refusing to back down and admit defeat when he was so close to winning. He cast a side-glance at the Spin-The-Bottle game they'd been playing, where their small group of friends was sitting and watching them intently. Sarah had her hand in a popcorn bucket, leaving Jack to wonder for a moment how in the world she managed to make that with no microwave in the Jacobs' house.

His blue eyes locked onto Katherine's brown ones, and he said the words that sentenced him to death.

"Well yeah. Girls ain't as strong as guys."

Katherine raised her head high, causing her red ponytail to sway and the light to bounce off the light pink streak.

"Oh, and if I was a boy,"

Jack swallowed his fear.

You would be looking at me through one. Swollen. Eye." Katherine sneered, lunging forward and putting a threatening fist under Jack's chin.

Fearlessly, he glared right back at her. "Well don't let that stop you, huh?" He goaded, "Gimme your best shot!"

And so she did.

In just two seconds, Katherine had drawn back her fist. In one more, her knuckles collided with Jack's jaw.

The boy let out a pained yelp, doing a full 180° spin from the force of her hit. " _Ooooooh_ , fuck yeah Kath!" Sarah cheered. Her brother, David, whacked her arm to shut her up. "Don't encourage her, she has a big enough ego already." He rolled his eyes. This earned him two middle fingers from Katherine and a childish raspberry from his sister.

Before you find it weird that David and Sarah were both playing, this specific game of Spin-The-Bottle was the Jacobs siblings' horrifying creation. First round was admitting exactly how you felt about the person spinning the bottle (Albert hated this round, as a self-proclaimed despiser of all things Feelings™), then punching (Albert _loved_ this one, mostly because no matter who it landed on he would punch Race), then Truth or Dare, then kissing. If it was one of their turns, the siblings played Rock-Paper-Scissors before the last round, and the winner got to sit out during the kissing portion to avoid any possible incest.

This was the second round, and Katherine had landed on Jack. He'd been an idiot and told her to not even bother trying, since there was no way she could hit him hard enough to hurt. This had led to a rather heated argument between him and Katherine, which David had promised would blow over with no one getting hurt.

And here they were, with Jack rubbing his jaw and pouting as he made his way back to the circle. Race and Spot were snickering, then returning to flicking each other and exchanging obviously faked glares. Albert was rolling his eyes and pouting almost as much as Jack; Probably because he didn't get to hit anyone.

"Truth or Dare!" Sarah shouted, wiggling her eyebrows at Katherine. The girl, who was smiling smugly just a second before, was now turning as red as her hair.

She reached for the bottle, only to have her hand slapped by the curly, blond haired boy beside her. "Not so fast, _Principessa_." The grinning Racetrack Higgins said. "It's my turn, remember? You don't get your turn 'til after Spottie here goes. Then there's Al and Jack too."

Spot glared heavily at him, forcing a mildly terrified squeak from Race as he hastily spun the bottle.

The nozzle stopped facing Jack Kelly, who was holding an ice pack from Sarah's pocket—Where did she get these things?—to his bruised jaw. He whined, "Come _on_." Jack frowned, side-eyeing Katherine unhappily.

Race cracked his knuckles as a mischievous grin spread across his face. "Aight Jacky-boy." He leaned back, his curls going askew as they brushed against the wall behind him. "Truth or Dare?"

Jack did not trust Race.

But he'd also known him since third grade, and wanted to believe that he wouldn't make him do anything too terribly embarrassing after he got his fill of laughter from seeing him get punched.

So he gave his answer.

"Dare."

Race's blue eyes glinted with devious intent.

"Kiss Davey."

" _What_!?" Jack shouted, scooting back and hitting his head against the wall. "OW!" At this, Albert snorted loudly before immediately covering his mouth. Race began to giggle at Albert, causing him to punch him, which elicited an offended shriek and a whole lot of Italian curse words from the taller boy.

David was turning even redder than Katherine, trying to protest and ending up stuttering out a pitiful "I—Not good. Ba—Very No—I ca—" before covering his face with his hands. Race was smiling smugly, despite the fact that there was already a bruise forming on his arm and the fact that he was wincing whenever it touched the wall. "You heard me, Kelly. Or are ya chickening out? Don't tell me you're too scared to kiss a boy." The blond spared a glance towards the shortest boy in the group beside him.

Spot pinched him warningly, then gave Albert a high-five. "Ow! What was that for?" "The high-five?" Spot asked, feigning as much innocence as he could manage (absolutely none). "It's 'cause we both hate you." Albert cut in, earning yet another high-five from Race's short-statured tormentor.

"Babe, if you keep doing stuff like that I might have to high-five your mouth with my—" "EW." Sarah gagged, throwing a water bottle she produced from behind her (Jack was seriously considering that she was a witch) at Race's head. "Boys, _NO_ sex talk. Les is in the other room and you're tainting my popcorn." She frowned, shielding her popcorn from the offensive, seductive grin on Race's face.

"What? I'm just flirting with my beautiful boyfriend, is that so wrong?" Race batted his eyelashes, causing Spot to choke on air and Sarah to glare at him and stuff her face with popcorn while shouting insanities such as "You've burned my popcorn daughter's poor virgin retinas" and "Poor Scarlett Johansson the second, she never even got to see her first movie" while stroking a single piece of popcorn, before she consumed it of course.

While watching the argument with increasing amusement, Jack had forgotten about one very important person: Katherine Plumber.

With frightening speed, Katherine lunged forward from her spot on the floor and grabbed Jack by the collar of his shirt. Before he could process what was happening, and the fact that she had also grabbed David, he felt his lips collide with someone else's.

He was staring into the wide brown eyes of David Jacobs when the room fell silent, lips still connected to the other boy's. Both were too startled to move for a few moments, which was enough time for Albert to take about six decent pictures and send it to their cursed group chat.

Then they pulled apart, both red-faced and screaming.

"What the _hell_ , Katherine!?" Jack shouted, looking up at the girl with flustered betrayal. He couldn't believe she would do that, especially when he had spent the past week telling her all about his stupid pining after a painfully oblivious Davey and how he'd probably never be able to tell him.

Katherine simply shrugged, the pink bubble from the gum she was chewing popped obnoxiously as she pulled it back into her mouth with her teeth. "You can't back out of a dare, Jack." She stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Plus, I got sick of the heart eyes."

And then she plopped back down onto the floor, smiling sweetly at the now sputtering Davey who still hadn't recovered enough to speak properly. The poor teenager was confused, flustered,—and embarrassingly horny—and he had no idea how to react to the fact that Jack fucking Kelly with his stupid good looks and unfairly hot clothing style and even more unfairly beautiful eyes had just kissed him (albeit unintentionally).

"So." Katherine clapped her hands. "Kissing round, anyone?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (chanting) GIVE ME KATHERINE OR GIVE ME DEATH
> 
> have i mentioned how much i love katherine—
> 
> this was a cute lil spin of how i've often imagined the lil argument before "Something To Believe In" could've gone with modern day characters, and if jack liked davey, and thus this monstrosity was born
> 
> have i also mentioned how much i love albert because i really love him
> 
> okay bye love you guys the sudden support was highly unexpected and i'm very happy <333
> 
> next, as requested: some cute platonic ralbert because my boys are disaster gays and they seriously just need a nice friend moment so they can pine after their love interests


	3. Two Gays Sitting In A Dance Class, Pining Together Cause They're Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The small boy spun easily, leaping through the air and landing gently while managing to barely make a sound against the hard floor. His dark hair went in all directions as he continued to pirouette and finish with unnecessarily attractive jumping that made Albert's heart pound against his rib cage.
> 
> He was beautifully graceful, and he simply couldn't take his eyes off him.
> 
> Albert was so, tragically fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (violent winking and nudging, Brooklyns_Late)
> 
> welcome back to your favorite program of gay silliness and a whole lot of These Boys Need Some Serious Jesus™

_Stupid. Stupid fucking Elmer with his stupid fucking hair and his stupid eyed and stupid impressive physique and his stupid amazing personality and his stupid stupid stupid_ —

"Isn't he _bellissimo_?" One Racetrack Higgins interrupted his thoughts, slumping down on the floor below the barre so he was now at eye-level with him.

Albert raised an eyebrow, looking around to see who Race could possibly be staring at who didn't happen to be named Elmer and have some really fucking pretty eyes, then his gaze landed on Spot Conlon.

He was muscular, sure, and pretty hot, but he wasn't really Albert's type. No, his type was several feet to the right and has still been spinning without falling for the past thirty seconds.

He shrugged. "I guess. Bet he's straight though." Albert pointed out the gaggle of girls in the corner— _Wait, one of them was Buttons. Girls and one guy._ — who were presently fawning over Spot in the same dumb, goo-goo eyed way that Race was. The blond whined unhappily, finally tearing his eyes from Spot to look into Albert's now wide brown eyes. It felt like his soul was being stared at, the way this boy was looking at him.

"Holy shit," He gawked. "It's that serious?"

Race hadn't had a serious crush since seventh grade, and that was on Jack Kelly (who was a year above them). When he worked up the courage to tell him, he'd been horrendously rejected because while Jack was bisexual, he found Race a little annoying.

Albert didn't blame him, but Jack wasn't his best friend. Jack didn't have to hug Race while he cried and get snot all over his hoodie, then give him the last few scoops of ice cream in his house and watch "Cars™" with Race muttering "zoom zoom" in between sobs.

Then he got over it the next week, and Albert had to threaten Race's favorite tap shoes to get him to swear he would never tell anyone else about the "mushy shit" he did for him.

Race wailed as quietly as he could, leaning on Albert's shoulder and hissing about "stupid sexy people with nicknames that sound like a dog".

Meanwhile, Albert was a little distracted.

The small boy spun easily, leaping through the air and landing gently while managing to barely make a sound against the hard floor. His dark hair went in all directions as he continued to pirouette and finish with unnecessarily attractive jumping that made Albert's heart pound against his rib cage.

He was beautifully graceful, and he simply couldn't take his eyes off him.

Albert was so, tragically _fucked_.

"Ooh, what're you lookin' at Al? You're smiling."

Albert quickly fixed a scowl on his face. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Tap shoes, Racetrack."

Race shut up.

But clearly, Race can only keep his mouth shut for a few seconds. "Elmer, huh? Yeah, he's cute. You should ask him out."

The redhead squawked. "I didn't say anything about Elmer!"

The blond raised his eyebrows, the movement making such an _"Are you fucking serious?"_ face that Albert let out an annoyed huff. "He wouldn't say yes anyways."

At this, Race snorted. "Dude, I love you, but you're a fucking dumbass." He pointed towards Elmer. "Whenever you ain't looking, he's been sneaking glances at you for the past hour."

His eyes widened, a blush slightly coloring his cheeks. "Bullshit."

He looked over at Elmer, noticing that the smaller boy scrambled, turned red and nearly fell before hastily launching into another dance routine.

"Told you. Ask him out Al!" Race encouraged, elbowing him and causing the color of Albert's hair to seep into his face. "No! He prob'ly just noticed me looking at him and was looking at me because I'm a creep!" He whined pitifully, curling up into a ball.

"Feelings fucking suck." He grumbled.

Race sighed, sneaking a few more glances at Spot, who was now trying to see if he could pick up his friend for whatever dance routine he was practicing. "Yeah, yeah they do."

Race grunted, shifting into a position where he was now entirely facing his friend. "Okay, I'll make you a deal."

He didn't trust any of Race's deals, since he usually never went through with his end, but the look in his eyes intrigued him.

The taller boy continued. "If you ask out Elmer, right now, I'll ask out Spot." Since Albert looked unconvinced and rather anxious about the idea of asking out that unfairly adorable boy, Race tacked on another part. " _And_ I'll never tell anyone I saw you feel cutesy lovey-dovey emotions for someone you were pining after."

"Deal."

Race spit into his hand and held it out. Albert rolled his eyes, slightly disgusted, but reciprocated.

"Oh, wait."

Race yanked Albert's hat off his head, causing his hair to fall on his forehead. "Hey!" He frowned, grumpily holding back from punching Race for fear he would conveniently "forget" about one very important part about his deal.

"Great! I told you your hair is cute, Albert."

He blushed violently again.

"Now go get him!" Race patted him on the back, then jumped up, supposedly to go flirt with Spot.

He hit his head on the barre above them, cursing violently in Italian and muttering words in Irish that he'd heard Albert often say. The other boy snickered, suddenly glad that Race wasn't aware he was talking about "guitar genitalia", then watched as the other stood up proudly and marched over to his future tiny boyfriend.

Albert gulped, raising his head to make eye contact with Elmer. The sweet boy had stopped dancing and was now giving him a watery smile; The awkward kid equivalent of _"Hello"_.

He felt self conscious about his dumb red hair that was long enough in the front to fall over his eye. He stared at the scars and bruises littering his arms from countless fights he'd gotten into. (High-schoolers really liked "your mom" jokes. Albert did not agree.) Most of all, he feared rejection. He never thought very highly of himself, usually trying to suppress his emotions as much as he could to avoid judgement and hatred. Hell, it took him three months just to come out to Race, who he already knew was gay at the time. And even if he wasn't, he knew he would've accepted him no matter what. Race was just that kind of person.

Then he caught sight of Race and Spot, who were conversing easily. Spot leaned in and stood on his toes to whisper something in Race's ear, which made his friend squeak and turn bright red. Spot laughed loudly at him, shaking with hilarity as he put an arm on Race's shoulder to steady himself.

His eyes flicked back over to Elmer, who was biting his lip anxiously and staring at him.

_Fuck it._

Sighing, Albert stood up and made his way over.

Elmer seemed to panic, checking his outfit and running a hand through his hair spastically. Albert couldn't help but find this exceedingly cute.

"Hey." He smiled awkwardly. Thankfully, Elmer did the same. "Um.. Hi."

Elmer twisted his hands together, being very unslick with his little glances up to meet Albert's eyes and study his face before his eyes darted back down.

"So.." He took in a shaky breath. Race gave him a thumbs up, and he resisted chucking his shoe at him. (He didn't have to; Spot had it covered. The small boy punched him in the arm and hissed "He can handle it".)

"Would you.. wanna go out sometime?"

Elmer's brown eyes stared up at him with wonder, and Albert felt like the sweatiest, most introverted painting in the world. He was panicking. He'd be rejected, wouldn't he? It would turn out that Elmer in fact did not like him and thought he was creepy and that his hair was stupid—Or maybe he'd seen him dancing and thought he sucked—Or—

Then, the boy gave him a crooked smile and stepped closer. 

'"I'd like that. A lot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's that on this episode of albert feels feelings. we will accept your kudos and comments as prayer for this helplessly in love dummy.


	4. That's Pretty Gay, My Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> homoshrekxual: well i wasn't expecting that
> 
> homoshrekxual: that's pretty gay, my guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small apology to RageQuitShy: it took longer than expected to write your request, and when it was nearly finished, i forgot to save the draft and boom; it's gone. ughhhhh—
> 
> this is a little filler group chat thingy because one: my consistency is ruined by school and most of my updates will now be limited to weekends and days off, and two: i gotta rewrite that request from scratch now and that's irritating ;-;
> 
> homoshrekxual: race  
> brooklynsqueer: spot  
> irishyoudshutup: albert  
> disaster_bi: jack  
> crutcheverlasting: charlie  
> BestJacobs: david  
> BetterJacobs: sarah  
> superiorredhead: katherine  
> tic: mike  
> tac: ike  
> mushyfeels: mush  
> mushs_bitch: blink  
> mamabird: finch  
> WhereforeArtThou: romeo

_homoshrekxual added brooklynsqueer, irishyoudshutup, and 11 others_

_homoshrekxual changed the group name to "ho ho hoes leave and i eat ur toes"_

homoshrekxual: MERRY CHRYSLER BITCHES

irishyoudshutup: racetrack i swrar tonfucking god

homoshrekxual: need help spelling there al

irishyoudshutup: i will kill you and your ffukcin family

homoshrekxual: uwu?

BestJacobs: What the hell

BetterJacobs: What the fuck

disaster_bi: oi language you fuckin satanists

crutcheverlasting: jack you do realize satanists don't actually worship satan

tic: yeah if you want someone who worships satan

tac: we're right here

homoshrekxual: those are probs the demon twins but idk

brooklynsqueer: you didn't check to see who you were adding?

homoshrekxual: i just selected all my contacts then deselected my parents

mamabird: RACE DID YOU ADD ROMEO

homoshrekxual: yeah why

brooklynsqueer: oh god

mamabird: IT'S BEFORE 6 AM

homoshrekxual: oh

crutcheverlasting: racetrack higgins you actual idiot

WhereforeArtThou: WHICH ONE OF THEE FOUL FIENDS HATH AWAKEN ME FROM MINE SLUMBER!?

mamabird: the apocalypse has begun

hide ur cats

romeo has woken up from his beauty sleep the day of a shakespeare performance he stars in

WhereforeArtThou: FIE! VILLAINY! I HAST ONLY RECIEVETH X HOURS OF SLEEP BEFORE MY DEBUT

mushyfeels: is no one else gonna point out the fact that he's combining modern english and middle english and it sounds mildly coherent

brooklynsqueer: the Shakespearien play got a modern twist on it so the audience wouldn't get bored

brooklynsqueer: the words "lit" and "turnt" are used six times. each.

irishyoudshutup: ew why

mushs_bitch: that's even worse than regular shakespeare

mushyfeels: babe do you want to get murdered by a very small, very angry romeo at six in the morning?

mushs_bitch: he can wait till later. i wanna wait to get murdered until after our date

WhereforeArtThou: THOU DOES NOT DESERVETH A SWEET DATE TO MAKE OUT AND BEETH SICKENINGLY CUTE WITH THINE BOYFRIEND.B TAKETH BACK THY FOUL WORDS AGAINST THE GREAT WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

mushs_bitch: hey babe wanna go make out

mushyfeels: sure

WhereforeArtThou: Damn it

mamabird: u good ro

WhereforeArtThou: Seekest thou a comforting answer, or a truthful one?

mamabird: uh

mamabird: truthful

WhereforeArtThou: I am currently planning an elaborate plan to murder Race.

homoshrekxual: oh shit he dropped the middle english

homoshrekxual: guys help

disaster_bi: u brought this on urself

BestJacobs: ^

BetterJacobs: ^^

crutcheverlasting: rip race

homoshrekxual: crutchie i trusted u

crutcheverlasting: that was a mistake

irishyoudshutup: he died as he lived,

brooklynsqueer: a massive fuckboy,

tic: and a horrendously

tac: horny twink

homoshrekxual: u right u right

mamabird: how tf did you guys coordinate that

spot literally lives in brooklyn and none of you live near each other besides the twins

brooklynsqueer: wouldn't you like to know?

irishyoudshutup: wouldn't you like to know?

brooklynsqueer: ayyyy

irishyoudshutup: ayyyyyyy

superiorredhead: i was just gonna lurk but this is too good to pass up

homoshrekxual: kATH save me

superiorredhead: HEY only sarah calls me kath

BetterJacobs: Awww Kathy

superiorredhead: <3

homoshrekxual: stop being fuckin cUte ur making me feel painfully lonely

irishyoudshutup: same

WhereforeArtThou: Speaking of being lonely...

homoshrekxual: ?

WhereforeArtThou: 1000 push-up, Race.

homoshrekxual: what?

wait

WAIT

ROMEO YOU PIECE OF SHIT

YOU CAN'T CASH THAT IN NOW NOT WITH EVERYONE HERE AND SHIT

superiorredhead: wot

disaster_bi: aight i ain't dealing with this shit, davey wanna head to the mall?

BestJacobs: Definitely. Let us know how it goes Romeo.

WhereforeArtThou: Will do. And Race, you promised.

homoshrekxual: romeo pleas e i literally can't he straight

irishyoudshutup: what's going on

tic: albert,

tac: just wait

tic: and see.

tac: all will become clear

tic: in just a few

tac: minutes.

crutcheverlasting: you two are fuckin creepy

superiorredhead: they are but crutchie watch your language

crutcheverlasting: yes aunt katherine -_-

mamabird: aunt?

BetterJacobs: Davey is his mom, Jack is his dad, so that makes Kath and I his amazing aunts uwu

WhereforeArtThou: OFF TOPIC. HEATHENS.

Anthony Higgins, I believe I said 1000 push-ups.

tic: oh shit

tac: he said anthony.

tic: race is probably

tac: going to die.

homoshrekxual: rEAL COMFORTING GUYS

romeo pls pls i cannOT

YOU HAVEN'T EVEN FINISHED B99 YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME SMH

crutcheverlasting: b99

homoshrekxual: brooklyn nine-nine. watch it. great show. lots of like, implied sex and stuff.

crutcheverlasting: this is why davey doesn't want me to hang out with you.

homoshrekxual: no, it's because i taught you how to swear

crutcheverlasting: that too.

irishyoudshutup: B99

homoshrekxual: YES LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT

JAKE IS MY SPIRIT ANIMAL

WhereforeArtThou: RACETRACK.

homoshrekxual: FINE

superiorredhead: OH FUCK IT'S REALLY HAPPENING

PREPARE FOR REJECTION MY SON ILY

brooklynsqueer: WIAT HE' SACTUALLY GONNA DO IT?

mamabird: WIAGHFT WHAT WHAT

tic: WHAT

tac: THE

tic: FUCKING

tac: SHIT?!

homoshrekxual: AIGHT SHUT UP LEMME DO THIS BITCHES

so a while back, romeo and i made a bet.

brooklynsqueer: do it do it do it

homoshrekxual: shut uP spot

actually keep taking i can't back out of this because my arms can't handle the push-ups

brooklynsqueer: noodle arms

homoshrekxual: yes

ANYWAY

he bet i couldn't ask out the guy i liked by christmas

which

today is christmas

brooklynsqueer: crimuss

homoshrekxual: sì.

and he said if i didn't, i'd have to do a thousand push-ups

thanks brooklyn nine-nine for that inspo

brooklynsqueer: this isn't a promo higgins

homoshrekxual: riGHt sorry

so uh i don't wanna do push-ups so i guess i'm doing this.

albert dasilva,

superiorredhead: HE'S DOING IT OH MYFNCUK

crutcheverlasting: HELL YEAJ RACE

tic: OH MY GOD

tac: MIKE MIKE IT'S HAPPENING

tic: I K N OW

irishyoudshutup: wait

BetterJacobs: IT'S GOIN DOWN BOYS IT'S HAPPENING PH MY GDOSND

irishyoudshutup: wait what's happening whatbthe fuck

WhereforeArtThou: AAH

mamabird: ROMEO ILY FOR THIS BET I'M SO TIRED OF THE PINING

homoshrekxual: will you go out with me?

brooklynsqueer: VEERYONE SHUTNTHE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW

mamabird: ...

tic: .....

tac: .......

brooklynsqueer: that doesn't mean spam ellipses you dipshits

_irishyoudshutup is typing..._.

irishyoudshutup: yes.

_several people are typing...._

homoshrekxual: ...

homoshrekxual: well i wasn't expecting that

homoshrekxual: that's pretty gay, my guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is basically me telling you to watch b99 via race :)


	5. A Bushel And A Peck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you'd just let me get this paper done—" Davey was cut off by Spot plopping down on the couch and laying his head in his lap.
> 
> The eldest Jacobs sibling hesitated, then continued writing as a light blush formed on his otherwise stoic face.
> 
> "You're annoying." Davey pouted.
> 
> Spot grinned. "You love me."
> 
> Yeah, Davey thought, Maybe I do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a bITCH to write but i'm sorta proud of it??? like what??? it didn't turn out shitty! yay me!
> 
> i sort of split it up into chunks because i found that when i didn't, i broke the character limit
> 
> yeaaaah...
> 
> don't ask how i managed that
> 
> but it's here, it's queer—
> 
> and i'm happy with how it turned out
> 
> (requested by RageQuitShy)

_Sunday_

"The midterm is _tomorrow_ , Spot. You can't put it off forever."

"I've also got a game tomorrow, which is significantly more important than a fuckin' midterm."

"That is bullshit and you know it."

"You're _impossible_."

David Jacobs sighed, throwing a pencil at his best friend. "Look, I already told you I can't come to your game because of the tournament coming up. I gotta study." He placed his flash cards back on the coffee table, turning to face the smaller boy, who was currently kicking a ball around the living room and narrowly avoiding smashing a window. David winced. "Sarah's gonna kill you if you break her brooding window." He frowned, glancing at the large window above the fireplace that his sister often climbed up to gaze out of whenever it rained. She was _such_ an anime character wannabe.

"You're just memorizing like.. square roots. It's not a big deal." Spot rolled his eyes, ducking as the ball ricocheted back at him and collided with the wall. "It's algebra two, which actually doesn't involve a whole lot of geometry, and yes it's easy but I can't risk failing." Davey shot him a look, snatching the ball out of the air when it came flying in his direction.

The smaller boy frowned. "You're just pissed that I took algebra in 8th grade and you didn't. And now you have to wait an extra year to take pre-calc."

David stood up, stepping closer. "So do you, since you failed geometry in freshman year."

Spot's gaze hardened, then softened as he grinned and burst into laughter.

"You're fuckin' stupid sometimes, Jacobs."

Davey blinked. "I don't get it."

"I wouldn't be captain of the soccer team if I failed geometry. You seriously believed that? My god Davey it was April fool's!" He snorted, letting out some very manly laughter that was most definitely not high pitched giggling.

His friend turned pink. "Oh."

After Spot calmed down, he smiled and snatched up the flash cards. "You're oblivious, y'know that?"

"Yeah, yeah." Davey grumbled, embarrassed. "Hey, I was joking okay? You're smart." Spot's features turned sympathetic, and he gave him a warm smile that made butterflies flutter in his rib cage.

"Mfh." Was his intelligent reply.

The boy across from him let out a beautiful laugh. "You're adorable when you're flustered."

"Shut up."

—

"Kelly, huh?" Spot wiggled his eyebrows, leaning forward on the lunch table as Davey blushed all the way up to his ears.

"Look, he just asked me to the dance okay? It's not like we fucked in the Janitor's closet." He protested whinily, dropping his head on the table and causing his water bottle to fall over on his tray.

Spot chuckled, stuffing a few fries in his mouth. "Oddly specific, don'cha think?"

David stiffened, and Spot squawked loudly.

"No way."

He let out a groan, causing his short-statured friend to start cackling.

"My god, Davey, you fucked him didn't you?!" He managed between giggles, trying to catch his breath as David chucked an apple at him.

"Don't judge me! You totally would've if it was you. He just gave me this look and his stupid blue eyes and I couldn't say no and—Ugh." He lifted his head, pouting.

Spot raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I ain't judging, but.." He leaned in again. "How good was it?"

He screamed as David began throwing many things from his tray at him. "I'm sorry! Don't kill me!"

"You're _dead_ Conlon, y'hear me?" He glared at him, looking more like a lovesick puppy than a pissed off teenager.

"Mhm, I hear you." Spot snickered, trying to ignore the strong urge to run out of there and cry.

Davey was happy. He should be happy. No, he was happy. Spot was very happy that David had found someone he loved.

Right?

—

"Spot, c'mon open the door."

"No." He replied childishly, aggressively kicking his shoes off and watching them hit the ceiling.

"Spot." "No." "Please, I just wanna know why—" "No." "Why haven't you been talking to me?" "Fuck off." "Sean—"

He stood up, kicking the door and causing David to let out a startled yelp from the other side. "I said fuck off!" Spot shouted, thankful David couldn't see the tears running down his face.

The other boy was silent for so long, Spot was sure he'd left. Then he spoke up, very quietly: "I just... I wanna know. Why are you ignoring me?"

It's his voice breaking on "why" that kills him. Hurts like a fucking knife to his abdomen. Like someone broke his ribs then hit them with a bag of bricks for good measure.

"I already told you. I've got soccer, and I'm swamped with homework."

"That's fucking bullshit!" David shouts, making Spot's heart beat hard against his ribs.

All Spot can hear is David's ragged breathing for a few seconds until he speaks up again.

"It's because of Jack, isn't it?"

Spot swallowed, covering his ears as Davey began to yell again.

It was too much. He was having trouble controlling his breathing. David was shouting, and that, more than anything, _hurt_. The walls were closing in, and the other's words became muffled.

"Just fuck off!" Spot screamed, his words echoing in the small room.

Davey went silent.

"You know what?"

He kicked the door, causing it to shake. Spot didn't notice, as he was shaking even more.

"Fuck you."

Spot's eyes widened, and he hastily yanked open the door. He didn't want David to leave him alone again.

The sight before him was enough to break his heart.

David looked like someone in his family had just died. There were bags under his eyes, not to mention how puffy they were and the fact that they were rimmed in red from what seemed like back to back days of crying. His sleeves looked like he'd dipped them in water and used them as oversized tissues, when really they'd been taking the brunt of his emotions for the past week.

Judging by the look he was giving him, Spot assumed he himself looked even worse.

He wanted to scream, and shove him away. Spot wanted desperately to shut him out of his life and forget he existed. To ignore him and his stupid fucking boyfriend and bury himself in schoolwork and soccer until his head exploded.

But he found all he could do was crash into David and sob into his sweater, wailing out apologies and squeezing him so hard he feared he'd break him.

In that moment, Spot realized a lot of things.

He realized how much he'd missed David. How much he'd wanted to hold him tight and never let go. How much he cared about him more than anyone he'd ever met before. How much everything he did could make anything else seem insignificant in his eyes.

More importantly, Sean Conlon realized how much he loved David Jacobs.

"Don't go." Spot sniffled, speaking into David's chest and holding onto him like the world was ending.

Davey's arms came to wrap around him. "I won't."

He held him tighter, afraid if he let go that David would evaporate into thin air, never to be seen again.

"No, I mean like, ever."

And so he didn't.

—

_Wednesday_

David had broken up with Jack the day after his argument with Spot.

After all, Jack was more interested in painting still lifes of some place in New Mexico than David. Plus, he decided he wasn't ready for a boyfriend yet. Nor was he thrilled about the idea of long-distance, since Jack would be going to college in Santa Fe next year.

And—Alright, maybe he liked Spot Conlon more than Jack Kelly.

"Who the fuck buys lemon ice cream?" Spot complained from the kitchen, thoroughly disgusted with the contents of the Jacobs family's freezer. David snorted. "I do, and I happen to think it tastes great." "Well you're _gross_."

Spot returned to the living room with an ice cream sandwich in his hand. "You sure you don't want ice cream? It's hot as fuck outside."

Spot was wearing a red and black tank top that did _everything_ for his figure. And also showed off his arms— _God_ , his arms. David had to do everything in his power to avoid staring at his arms.

This boy played soccer. A sport that did not require use of arms. Having such muscular arms was entirely unfair, especially for David, who had to look at them and make sure the next words out of his mouth wouldn't be "fuck me".

"Yeah, I'm sure. I don't want them to get on my notes." He pointed down at the paper he was working on, where he was writing down as many digits of pi as he could from memory. He was currently at 37 and failing miserably in his attempts to recall more.

"Nerd." Spot grinned, flexing his stupid hot muscular arms casually and making David utterly despise the teenage libido. He immediately averted his eyes.

"If you'd just let me get this paper done—" Davey was cut off by Spot plopping down on the couch and laying his head in his lap.

The eldest Jacobs sibling hesitated, then continued writing as a light blush formed on his otherwise stoic face.

"You're annoying." Davey pouted.

Spot grinned. "You love me."

_Yeah,_ Davey thought, _Maybe I do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spot feels emotions? since when?


	6. This Had Better Come To A Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Y' can't keep doin' this, Jack," Davey sighed as he cleaned the cut on his face with a rag he "borrowed" from Sister Evangeline's collection. "I can protect myself, y'know. I ain't gotta be defended." He leaned forward, getting a good look at the large purple bruise on Jack's cheek.
> 
> "You gotta stop gettin' that pretty face o' yours messed up, 'r you ain't never gonna find anyone who'll kiss you." He teased.
> 
> "Shut up." Jack replied petulantly, fighting down the furious blush that threatened to show on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back with some good ol' canon era!  
> (filler fluff break from the torture i put spot through last chapter)  
> i had to add a few more tags to accommodate for weisel's foul mouth, which hurt me deeply to write, but you gotta do what you gotta do.  
> (p.s. javid is my heart and soul and i'd die for them)  
> (p.p.s. anyone notice that this chapter and last have musical song titles? if you can name both musicals i love you)  
> (p.p.p.s happy spring break, everyone in the u.s.! this chapter was being mean and messing up for no reason, but i did it with minimal anger! that's a lie! i'm very irritated!)

Jack's fists were clenched so hard his fingernails had begun to draw blood from his palms.

"Jack," Davey tried to interrupt, "it's fine. It ain't that big a deal—"

"This don't concern you, Davey." Jack motioned for him to get behind him.

"It distinctly does." David muttered bitterly, but complied anyway.

The unanimously proclaimed leader of the Manhattan newsboys stepped forward, a hard glare fixed on his face. "You wanna repeat that, Weasel?"

The older man smirked, clearly amused, though the twitch of worry in his mouth couldn't escape Jack's fuming gaze. Smoothly, Weisel obliged. "I said that stupid faggot o' yours should learn to listen t' people when they's talkin' to him." He looked over Jack's shoulder to grin maliciously at David, who was covering Les' ears.

"Unc'a Weisel, maybe you shouldn't—" "Shut your mouth, Morris." Oscar hissed, protectively blocking his younger brother from his uncle's view as much as he could when he was about a foot shorter.

The air seemed to go still as silence hung heavily over the crowd of boys. Davey had a little faith that Jack would back down and remain unharmed.

And then Jack opened his stupid mouth.

"Well maybe," He began dangerously, taking a couple steps forward so he was nearly nose-to-nose with the man. "he'd be able t' hear you bett'r if you d'in't have your head so far up yer ass—"

Weisel landed the first hit, his brass knuckles making a sickening " _crack_ " sound against Jack's cheek.

Jack and several newsboys surged forward, most of the boys shouting at their leader to "beat the shit outta him" while other, more sensible ones, cringed and tried to pull the crowd back before any of them got hurt. Jack was already landing punches with both fists to Weisel's gut and face, growing more and more aggressive every time his opponent managed to hurt him bad enough to elicit a shout or groan.

Charlie's mostly passive expression changed into one of pure irritation as he shoved through the crowd, startling quite a few of them by being stronger than one would expect, then raised his crutch and hit Jack in the leg from behind.

The unexpected hit startled him enough to cause him to back away from Weisel, who frowned crookedly and spit blood on his shoe before turning and walking back to his terrified nephews with a slight limp.

Jack pushed himself up, whirling around to unleash hell on his new attacker and realizing he couldn't see anyone. Someone clearing their throat alerted him of his mistake, and he cranes his neck down to look at Crutchie. The boy was livid, blue eyes blazing with irritation.

"What the fuck were you thinkin'?!"

_Oh,_ Jack thought, _He is_ not _pleased._

Crutchie berated him, shouting angrily before hobbling off to go get his papes, followed by a majority of the crowd who looked too frightened by his outburst to do anything else. This left Jack alone with a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach and a very upset David Jacobs.

"Come with me. Now." Davey left no room for protest as he grabbed his wrist and forcefully yanked him back towards the lodging house.

Jack swallowed, not daring to speak for fear Davey would deck him himself.

—

David rummaged around in the closet where Sister Evangeline kept most of the medical supplies. He was grumbling to himself, muttering obscenities and occasionally glaring at Jack and throwing random objects he wasn't even going to use at his head for good measure.

Sister Evangeline did not get in his way, and instead, startled by the older Jacobs' behavior, made her way upstairs with nothing more than a stifled squeak of "scary..".

Finally, David emerged from the closet with handfulls of bandages.

Jack half expected to be yelled at again, but instead Davey cast him a sympathetic look as he sifted through the piles of bandages he found in search of one that would close the nasty cut he had on his cheek.

"Y' can't keep doin' this, Jack," Davey sighed as he cleaned the cut on his face with a rag he " _borrowed_ " from Sister Evangeline's collection. "I can protect myself, y'know. I ain't gotta be defended." He leaned forward, getting a good look at the large purple bruise on Jack's cheek.

"You gotta stop gettin' that pretty face o' yours messed up, 'r you ain't never gonna find anyone who'll kiss you." He teased.

"Shut up." Jack replied petulantly, fighting down the furious blush that threatened to show on his face.

Davey backed up, admiring his work with a small smile before it dropped again. "He really did a number on you, didn't he?" Jack rolled his eyes, looking much like a grumpy child who was caught fighting with his sibling.

"He shouldn'a said that about you." He defended, crossing his arms as David chuckled. "I already told you, it doesn't matter. B'sides, even if it's true, I got used those kinds'a insults a while ago."

Jack frowned. "That don't make it alright, Davey."

The other boy simply sighed, "I know."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes as David looked over a few bruises he deemed "too purple" before Jack piped up again.

"Y'know," He began, "There ain't nothin' wrong with bein'.." He trailed off, knowing full well David would understand anyway.

And he did. He was graced with a small nod and a sweet smile from the taller boy. "I know Jack. You don't gotta reassure me."

"S'just stupid how people think they can g't away wit' saying that stuff."

"Mhm."

"I's serious!" He protested. "It ain't right. Jus' because you like boys don't give them the right to pick on you. Jus' like Race for th' same reason, or Crutchie because he ain't able to walk right, or Albert for bein' sensitive 'bout his momma, or the twins 'cause they never learned how'ta read, or—"

David wiped an angry tear from Jack's face that he wasn't aware he'd shed.

"I know."

Jack bit his lip. "Or.. or me because I've kissed bo—"

"I know that too."

Their eyes met for a second, then David's shut as he leaned forward and pecked his lips.

Jack blinked incredulously, his face heating up quicker than he'd like to admit. He was also dimly aware of his flustered mood rushing to the general area of his groin.

Davey smiled, and Jack's eyes studied his face since they were so close. The splash of freckles on his face, the different shades of brown and hazel that made up his eyes, the way the his smiles reached the corners of his eyes and he bit his lip whenever he tried to hide one.

Jack leaned forward and copied David's actions, only he didn't stop at a peck. All he was paying attention to was the sweet feeling blooming in his chest, and how happy he felt with his lips connected to Davey's soft ones.

They both smiled simultaneously, then continued merrily with David avoiding coming in contact with any of Jack's new bruises, and Jack trying to ignore the fact that David's flustered feelings had also reached an unmentioned place sometime during the unbroken kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> babies babies babies babies babies babies babies—


	7. The Answer (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How the fuck should I know how whales reproduce?"
> 
> This was one of the many questions Spot Conlon had gotten stuck on in the past twenty minutes.
> 
> "This is biology. I ain't gotta know how whales have sex. I jus' thought this was gonna be DNA and shit."
> 
> David sighed. This was going to be a long week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (requested by RageQuitShy)
> 
> davey and spot are paired as seat partners. davey is flirtatious and spot is an oblivious dumbass.  
> oh. god.
> 
> i decided to have them do a week long project on marine life, which entails rants that were stolen from my very own sleep deprived rambles.
> 
> enjoy :)

"Would you calm down?" Race whined, dropping his head on the lunch table in exasperation. "Some of us are tryin' to eat here and don't wanna hear about how hot your project partner is."

"But he's _hot_! Unfairly hot!" David protested, grumpily chewing on what remained of the table's combined tater tots (except Sarah's, as when he tried to take them she nearly bit his hand off).

The table collectively groaned.

Katherine squeezed Sarah's hand, sharing a knowing look with her girlfriend and only serving to make David feel more alone. "Babe, can you save a few tater tots for me? I need to go vomit." She glared at David, having been holding her stomach since his ten minute long rant about what he estimated the size of Spot's "soul" was.

Sarah nodded, kissing Katherine's forehead lovingly. "Stop being cute." David complained, earning an icy glare from his sister.

"We get it, Davey, Conlon's attractive. Can I fuckin' eat now?" Crutchie piped up, scooting closer to Race and Albert who were equally annoyed with the brown eyed boy.

"Geh." David shrugged, getting a loud "Fuckin' finally" from Albert as the redhead began to shovel food into his mouth. "Hey, those mashed potatoes were mine!" Crutchie protested, getting his hand slapped away. Jack lurched forward to try and get at least some food, eliciting a shout of "Hey, you can't hit a crippled kid!" From Crutchie.

Katherine returned, bringing with her the sudden stop of the quarrel over who got to have who's mashed potatoes. She raised her eyebrows, placing her hands on her hips in her trademarked "disappointed mother" pose.

The rowdy teenagers muttered half-hearted apologies, slumping back to poke at their own trays. Katherine smiled, plopping down in her seat and unconsciously putting an arm around Sarah's waist.

It was a few minutes into the pitiful consuming of cafeteria food when Jack piped up. "So Davey.. when're you gonna fuck him?"

Race choked as milk shot out through his nose.

—

_Stop being hot. Please. I can't handle this._ David suppressed a whimper as Spot pulled his tank top back down, covering up his temporarily exposed ( _and toned as hell,_ David noted) midsection.

Spot's messy handwriting decorated their poster board below a large picture of a whale as he read over the project questions.

"Whales breathe through like... their blowholes, right?" Spot scrunched up his nose _adorably_.

David whined internally at the unfair situations he was thrust into.

_Whoa there, don't think about thrusting when sitting next to the literal embodiment of hotness. That isn't a good idea._

David moved his journal into his lap just to be safe.

"Yeah, they come above water every once in a while so they can breathe, since they don't have gills." He explained, Spot nodded and scribbled a couple more sentences.

David took this moment to admire him. The freckles dotting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose like constellations, his deep brown eyes intently focused on correctly spelling "whales" (he'd spelled it as "Wales" several times). His pretty, wavy brown hair with a few untamed cowlicks gathered on the left side of his head. David briefly wondered if he slept on that side, before remembering that was none of his business.

He then wondered if he slept fitfully, judging by the faint dark circles under his eyes, which was also none of his business.

His thoughts were going to spiral down a very inappropriate road again when Spot kicked his train of thought onto another, completely unneeded track.

"How the fuck should I know how whales reproduce?"

This was one of the many questions Spot Conlon had gotten stuck on in the past twenty minutes.

"This is biology. I ain't gotta know how whales have sex. I jus' thought this was gonna be DNA and shit."

David sighed. This was going to be a long week.

—

"Hey, can I have your number?"

David's heart climbed into his throat as his face heated up. "I—I beg your pardon?"

Spot cocked ( _mind out of the gutter, Jacobs,_ ) an eyebrow. "For the project. We gotta do something over the weekend on it, since it's due next friday and we don't have a lot done. I can't fail this class." His expression indicated he already was failing, but David didn't dare point it out.

"Oh." His face returned to a slightly acceptable level of blushing. "Sure."

He watched as Spot named his contact _"Davey"_ , and decided maybe he didn't dislike that nickname too much after all.

—

_2:46 A.M._

_Spot: how do whales even fuck?_

David stared at his screen in disbelief.

_Davey: You woke me up at two in the morning for that?_

_Spot: but is there like_

_whale sperm just floating around in the ocean?_

_Davey: What?_

_Spot: cause whales don't have condoms dipshit_

_so like when they fuck does sperm go everywhere in the ocean?_

He felt heat rushing to his face as he pondered this, then decided thinking about sperm when texting Spot "I'm Too Hot For Your Average High School Student" Conlon was a terrible idea. He glared at the offending text.

_Davey: Go to bed._

_Spot: don't they get drinking water from the ocean?_

"What the fuck."

_Davey: And I'm out._

_Spot: wait wait no hear me out_

_are we all being mouth raped by whales?_

_Davey: Christ._

_Spot: i'm asking genuine questions here and i expect answers, jacobs_

_Davey: It's fucking three in the morning now. Go to sleep._

_Spot: you're just upset you drank whale sperm_

David chucked his phone across the room and screamed into his pillow.

—

" _Whale sperm_ , Davey? Really?" Mike walked on the left side of David on the way to school, while his brother Ike walked on the right.

David groaned. "I didn't even fuckin' sleep. He kept me awake all night wondering if I drank whale sperm at some point or not."

Ike wrinkled his nose. "Ew."

"Exactly! It's gross!" The tallest complained, giving puppy dog eyes to the twins. Both looked entirely disgusted. "And what's worse? I still think he's highly fuckable."

Mike pretended to gag while Ike groaned loudly.

"You're both disgusting." Mike muttered, looking to his brother. Ike nodded rapidly. "You're perfect for each other, what with how gross you are."

Without taking their eyes off David, they high-fived.

"Oh, shut up." David crossed his arms childishly, the twins ignoring him in favor of bickering over how much sexual tension there was between him and Spot.

—

David was really beginning to wonder if he had a problem.

"Explain in _great detail_?!" Spot squawked loudly, glaring at the offensive paper. "Who the fuck would want to read about whale sex in great detail?"

_And yet,_ thought David, _I still want to date you._

"What?" Spot blinked owlishly, turning to face him.

_Shit, I didn't mean to say that out loud._ "I _said_ , you didn't seem to have a problem going into great detail last night."

Spot choked.

"Wh—That was entirely warranted, Jacobs! It was for the project!"

David felt butterflies going to war in his stomach at the fact that he managed to fluster Spot Conlon. "I don't think telling me how a whale fucking another whale's blowhole would be a blowjob is related to this project at all." He grinned, trying to hide his disgust at the words leaving his mouth.

Spot whacked him with his journal, then scribbled angrily on the poster board. David couldn't help but wish they could erase marker, with how many spelling and grammar mistakes he was making.

"Spot?"

Spot grunted.

"Spot—"

"Fuck off."

" _Spot_ —"

"I said—"

"You're writing about whale sperm on our project board."

The boy paused, then glared at David hatefully.

"'S your fuckin' fault, reminding me of that shit." He grumbled, punching the poster board as if he could beat the words off of it. Spot flipped the board over, then started to scribble again. This time, he made sure his elbow didn't touch David's arm.

David swallowed in attempt to push his heart back into it's proper place.

—

"He hates me."

Race took a drag from his cigar, then rolled his eyes. "No, really? I'd never have known. 'S not like he chucked your lunch tray at me or anything." He flicked some shredded cheese off his shoulder.

"He probably wasn't aiming for you, Racer." David muttered. The blond scoffed. "Yeah, right. He hates me just as much as you. Don't try that bullshit." He tried handing him the cigar.

David pushed his hand away. "Y'know you'll get like, lung cancer, right?"

Race smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I thought you was too busy worrying about your boyfriend to care." He idly flicked his lighter. "You didn't even notice I started smoking again 'til he rejected you."

"How was _I_ s'posed to know he didn't like me?"

Race gave him a look, and David sighed.

"I know, I gotta be less pushy. I just think he's the one, y'know?"

"You also said that 'bout Nancy Stephens in the fourth grade," hummed Race, his cigar between his teeth as he fumbled to light it.

David huffed, chewing on his thumbnail.

"I never said that."

"You did. I got Crutchie to back me up. He's a year below us an' even he understands that neither Nancy nor Spot like you."

He fell silent, scuffing his shoes against the windowsill.

"Why'd you let me come over if you know I'm just gonna complain?" David asked, trying to meet Race's eyes. This proved a difficult task when the other boy was avoiding his gaze at all costs. Race spit out what was left of his cigar, watching it hit the ground. "'Cause no one else is gonna listen to you, and you gotta get it over with." Race replied simply.

"I think it's because you actually care about my friendship." David teased, Race sighed.

"Yeah, I do. But you're lucky I'm not Albert. He would'a pushed you out the damn window."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring up at the clouded night sky.

"If you really think it's that serious, I say go get 'im." The blond said softly. "Jus' be careful, aight? You don't wanna end up with your own _"Salem"_." He warned, referring to his ex-boyfriend that he refused to talk about under any circumstances. David didn't like the way Race instinctively pulled his sleeves down when saying his name.

"I will, Anthony." He smiled.

Race grimaced. "Ew, okay, moment over. You ruined it." He then, with wisdom and maturity beyond what David thought he possessed, stuck out his tongue. He turned and climbed back into his bedroom, long limbs twisting to try and land softly on the floor.

David snickered, then stared up at a small hole in the clouds where a cluster of stars appeared, making him think for a moment of the freckles dotting Spot's skin.

"You comin' or what?" Race whined, pulling at his sweater. "It's fuckin' cold outside, close the window."

David smiled and turned, crawling back into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, you saw that right. part one.  
> i can't fit this whole thing in just one chapter, now can i?  
> well i could, but i need suspense.  
> <3


	8. The Answer (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David smiled wide, unshed tears stinging his eyes. "Yes. One hundred percent yes."
> 
> "Yes you'll go out with me, or yes you drank whale sperm?" Spot wiggled his eyebrows.
> 
> The other boy spluttered, his face turning bright red. "I- you- oh my God. I literally hate you."
> 
> "Mhm. Sure you do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE.  
> terribly sorry for the atrocious wait, loves. so much stupid shite is going on, what with quarantine and the school year finally done, i've been awfully stressed and my writing time was cut down considerably. my dumb problems aside, it's finally here! i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it.
> 
> come yell at me to update on discord! @moony#8103

_4:17 a.m._

_Spot:_ davey

_Spot:_ jacobs

_Spot:_ DAVID

_Davey:_ GOD WHAT

Spot _is offline._

_Davey:_ You fucking rat

—

Spot stared resentfully at the door to his biology classroom, purposefully stalling for as long as he could before he was late and had no choice to go in. The teenager scuffed the toe of his shoe against the tile and peeked through the small square window on the door.

There he was, Davey Jacobs, sitting at his desk and glancing every so often at Spot's empty seat.

_You're making him panic,_ said his conscience. _He probably hates you, or thinks you hate him. You should apologise._

Annoyed, Spot kicked his pesky conscience back to the furthest corner of his mind where it belonged and opened the door just as the bell rang.

The sub 'tsk'ed and scribbled on a clipboard. Nice to know he'd made a good first impression.

He draped his bag over the back of his chair and sat down, pretending not to notice how Davey let out a poorly suppressed sigh of relief.

"Your teacher expects you to spend the class period working on your projects. You may use your phones for research." The sub spoke up, then proceeded to walk briskly towards the back of the classroom to chide a few students for chewing gum.

Terrible instructions, since half the class proceeded to pull out their phones and do anything but work.

Spot yawned, just barely catching Davey's small squeak at the action. He cracked his knuckles. "Alright, what've we got left?" He tried to sound casual so as to let Jacobs know he did not in fact resent him, just to appease that stupid conscience and make it stop bugging him. The other yanked out the poster from his backpack, unfolding it over their desks.

Davey smirked. "The dreaded question."

Spot stared hard at the words on the paper, hoping if he stared long and hard enough that the letters might rearrange themselves. The question stubbornly did not move.

_"How does your chosen organism reproduce? Explain in great detail."_

"Fucking whales," He groaned, scrunching up his nose at the offending party. "Fuck you, whale." He jabbed a finger at the picture of a blue whale at the top of the board.

How dare these creatures have sex? How dare his teacher make him write about whale sex? How dare his teacher expect him to know how sex works?

Davey shrugged. "You could always look it up." The shorter boy snorted derisively and pulled put his phone. "This dumb thing's gonna be in my search history, which means the government agents stalking me are going to be really confused in a few seconds."

"Maybe they think you want to fuck a whale."

"I'm desperate, Jacobs, but not _that_ desperate." He typed _"how do whales fuck"_ into the search bar. Davey blinked. "You don't have to be so crude."

Spot smiled. "Uh, says the guy who drank whale sperm."

David quickly shut up.

He stared down at his screen, eyes darting over the paragraphs as he read and tried to burn the information into his mind.

"Haploid gametes.. sexual meiosis... sperm, eggs.. diploid zygotes... what the _fuck_ , whales?" Spot squinted, trying to make sense of literally anything he just read. "Complex mating ritual? Oceanic breeding grounds?! Why the hell is whale sex so complicated?" He exclaimed, causing Buttons to break out into a giggle fit behind him.

Davey read over Spot's shoulder, his face pale and expression one of horrification. " _Mating rituals among whales can be fierce, as in the violent "heat_ _runs,"_ —" He gagged. "Can whales even go that fast? I mean, being underwater and all. It's hard to even walk in water with the slowed momentum."

Spot decided he did not want to know how whales had "fierce" sex underwater.

—

"D'you think whales gotta love each other a lot to have sex, or is it more for avoiding extinction?" asked Davey, raising his head from the poster board to look at Spot.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Dunno. Maybe it's just for survival purposes." Davey seemed to consider this, then shrugged. "Okay, I have flashcards with the questions on them, so I just need you to pass them to me and help me memorise and we'll be all good to present tomorrow." Spot nodded, taking the stack and staring at the few blank cards that fell into his lap. Smiling, he grabbed the pen while Davey looked away and scribbled out a question.

"Alright, first one." He handed it to David.

" _How do whales get their food?_ " Davey answered quickly, but Spot merely nodded and tiredly said "correct". He wasn't quite listening. Smirking, Spot handed him another card.

"Did you drink whale sperm—oh come _on_ , you ass." Spot burst into a giggle fit, waving his hands in apology.

He felt safe and happy with Davey. He really did enjoy his company, and his heart hurt when he briefly wondered what his mother would think if she were there.

Then, with finality as he wrote down another question on the last blank flash card, he decided he didn't care what his mother perceived as sinful anymore. He'd truly loved Davey for two years, and he was damned if he was about to let him go.

Silently, he handed the card over.

Davey gave him a side look, no doubt wondering what stupid question he'd written down this time, then read it aloud. "Will you go out... with.. me."

Spot looked him in the eye once Davey's head snapped up in disbelief.

"Well, Jacobs? What's the answer?"

David smiled wide, unshed tears stinging his eyes. "Yes. One hundred percent yes."

"Yes you'll go out with me, or yes you drank whale sperm?" Spot wiggled his eyebrows.

The other boy spluttered, his face turning bright red. "I- you- oh my God. I literally hate you."

"Mhm. Sure you do."

David laughed, the tears clinging to his lash-line finally falling down his pale face. His beautiful face. "Fuck, you have no idea how much I wanted you to say that." He sniffled, wiping his tears and red rimmed eyes. His smile lit up those brown eyes of his, and Spot swore in that moment he would do anything to make Davey laugh and smile like that if it made his eyes so beautiful.

"So, um, I'm guessing we won't be working on the project much today?"

David put his hands on Spot's waist and pulled him closer, kissing his new boyfriend senseless with all the love and heartache he'd been repressing since the day he first met him in freshman year. Spot, not at all opposed to this turn of events, ran his hands up David's back and gleefully deepened the kiss.

They got a C on their project, but it wasn't as if they were very interested in it in the first place. They had better things they'd been missing that they had all the time in the world to catch up on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this request (and the very first ficlet in this mess) is finally done!
> 
> here you go, RageQuitShy; i sincerely hope you enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for hurting my babby crutchie it had to be done  
> requests will be taken!!


End file.
